


This is the Way, Step Inside

by WrathoftheStag (Mwuahna)



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Dance Clubs, Gen, Hannibal Loves Will, Hannibal as a punk, Hannibal in disguise, Idiots in Love, M/M, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Punk Rock, Will Loves Hannibal, description of murder, murder and music, physical violence, young!Hannibal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-14
Updated: 2016-09-14
Packaged: 2018-08-14 21:59:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8030338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mwuahna/pseuds/WrathoftheStag
Summary: Will asks Hannibal to tell him all about one of his earlier murders.  Hannibal regales Will with the story of how a young punk was astonishingly rude to him.  Hannibal, being Hannibal, will go to any lengths to locate -- and murder -- this rude boy, even if it means dressing like a punk, going to a club to get his man.  Music, mayhem, spiked hair, combat boots, leather and murder.  All in a night’s work.  Artwork for this HBB collaboration by X-Gubins.  Stop by Tumblr and say hello to them!





	This is the Way, Step Inside

**Author's Note:**

>   
>    
> 

Dinner had been a particularly lively affair as was often the case with Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter. The two settled into their study for some after dinner whiskey. While Hannibal still preferred wine to whiskey, this was one of the indulgences he afforded Will. Will hardly complained.

Lounging on the couch, Will asked Hannibal, “Tell me about one of your earlier… _designs_.”

“You make it sound as if I am some sort of fashion designer.”

“Well, you do fashion the most wonderful tableaus. Blood is your medium.”

“Goodness, I am rubbing off on you. Soon, Mongoose, you’ll be regaling me with glorious puns.”

“If by glorious, you mean cheesy as hell and over-the-top, then yes, I may soon be.”

Hannibal smiled and gently stroked Will’s cheek. Anaïs jumped onto the couch and curled up onto Hannibal’s lap, licking her chops before yawning once and closing her eyes.

Will pouted, “He’s mine. Don’t forget that, missy.”

“Will, that is uncalled for. I love you both equally.”

“Equally?” 

“Now, now, _mylimasis_. So. You’d like to hear about one of my earlier murders…”

“Yes. I bet it was sexy as hell,” Will said.

“Sexy? The act itself? No. But perhaps I was?”

Will perked up upon hearing Hannibal refer to himself as sexy, “I’m listening.”

“Back in 1984, I was finding my way in this new world. I had immersed myself within my studies, distancing myself from the past. Communication with Lady Murasaki was becoming more and more scarce.”

“Remind me to send her a thank you for her last care package.”

“I have already sent one.” Hannibal replied.

“Yes, of course you have,” Will said as he gently scratched behind Anaïs’ ears. She snapped to attention and tried to bite at his fingers.

Hannibal chuckled, “You know how protective she is of me, Will.”

“Protective? She hates me,” Will growled. “Anyway, continue…”

“So one particular morning, I was studying at a local coffee house. Many of the university students frequented this shop. While I did not necessarily want to associate with any of those people, I did not want to stand out or draw attention to myself.”

“Now _that_ I find hard to believe. You? Not want to draw attention to yourself?”

Hannibal smiled and stroked Anaïs’ head, “No, it is true. One day I was leaving the coffee shop and as I was walking out the door, this young man was walking in. He shoved his way in and bumped the coffee I was carrying, causing it to spill all over myself.”

Will’s eyes opened wide, “Ha! Bad mistake on his part.”

“Yes, to be sure. Mind you, I am quite aware that accidents happen and am willing to overlook said accidents should the perpetrator be truly repentant. This, however, was not the case.”

“What did he say?”

Hannibal inhaled. “Well, I said, ‘Pardon me,’ expecting him to react in some manner, and he most certainly did. He said, ‘Fuck off, asshole.’”

Will began to laugh. “Oh my! That unfortunate idiot.”

“So I did the only thing I could do, I memorized his face and began to plan. He was easy to memorize and would be easy to track down. He was a punk.”

“Did you just call someone a punk?”

“No, Will. He was literally a punk. A punk rocker.”

“What?”

“Though by that time, true punk had been long dead and he was merely a caricature of what he supposed a punk should be. The gothic rock sound, as the press termed it, had emerged by then, giving rise to that particular post-punk subculture. Which meant that the musical movement of the alternative had been converging toward a more goth aesthetic, or even a New Romantic...so, he wasn’t really a punk. Just a poseur.”

Will stared at Hannibal, his mouth slightly opened and said, “Have I said lately, how much I love you?”

Hannibal leaned over to kiss Will on the lips. “Yes, but I appreciate the constant reminder, _mylimasis_.”

“Do you want to sit in the backyard? We can light the fire pit. It’s beautiful outside and you can continue your story.”

**+++**

Hannibal lounged on the outdoor chaise, admiring Will in his shorts as he lit the fire pit.

“Will, you have the most beautiful legs. If I were not in love with you, I’d bake them in clay.”

Will smirked, “I know you’re kidding but please don’t make cannibal jokes about my body parts, you weirdo.”

“So shall I never talk about eating you?”

Will laughed, “You did _not_ just make a sexual cannibal pun.”

“I don’t know. Did I?” Hannibal smiled.

Will laughed some more and shook his head.

“I must behave myself,” Hannibal added.

Will sat on the ground as Hannibal handed him his tumbler of whiskey. Simone and Encephalitis were chasing each other nearby. 

“So this rude boy spilled coffee all over you, and you looked for him?”

“I had to leave, seeing that I was soaked with coffee, but I came back to the coffee house knowing I would see him again.”

The flickering lights from the fire pit highlighted Hannibal’s cheek bones.

“About a week later, our paths crossed once again. He entered the coffee house and began to bother a young woman who was studying. He would not take no for an answer. He kept telling her to smile.”

“Ugh,” said Will.

“Precisely. What reason would she have for smiling? Garnering the attention of a dullard? When she finally asked to please be left alone, he called her a bitch.”

“Classy,” Will said.

“So I watched, and when he left the coffee house, I followed him. He walked to what seemed to be his apartment and I watched from outside. He came back out shortly, and I followed him to a club called No Exit.”

“Did you go it?” Will asked.

“No, I couldn’t go in dressed as I was. It would be obvious that I did not belong and killing him at his place would be difficult because it appeared he had several roommates. So I was struck with a plan. I would kill him at No Exit. No one would notice, who would ever think that someone like me would ever step foot in that club?”

Will stared at Hannibal for a second, taking in the words that were spoken and said, “You didn’t...did you?” Will’s eyes opened wide and he joyfully shouted, “You did!”

Hannibal smiled at Will and nodded. “Yes, I disguised myself as a punk and went to No Exit.”

**+++**

**Baltimore, 1984**

Hannibal drove to a thrift store at the opposite end of the city, even then wearing a plain white T-shirt and simple black pants so as not to be memorable.

At the thrift store, he found a grey T-shirt that was quite worn, with a few holes around the neckline. He put that in his shopping basket. He perused the denim section and found a broken in pair of Levi’s, size 32 waist. They were a slim cut, all he needed was to rip the knees a bit and they would certainly do.

Afterward, he went to an army surplus store where he purchased a pair of paratrooper boots, some suspenders and an olive green MA-1 bomber jacket. He wasn’t quite feeling the leather motorcycle jacket look and instead opted for a more Ska-influenced punk feel.

He drove back to his apartment and headed straight to the laundry room. Tossing everything in the wash, he added a few drops of bleach to give the items a more distressed appearance.

Hannibal sat patiently watching the clothes twirl round and round. He read Milan Kundera’s “The Book of Laughter and Forgetting” while they dried. In his mind, Hannibal could already picture the act. He’d walk into the loud club, bodies pulsing to the sound of caterwauling guitars and keening drums. The slash of red against a dirty wall, the crack of rib...the rudeness slowly leaving his eyes -- all by the hands of Hannibal. He smiled and continued his book, then came upon a line that tickled him so much, he read it out loud, “The history of music is mortal, but the idiocy of the guitar is eternal.” Hannibal smiled, daydreaming about his pending design.

**+++**

Once he was back at his apartment Hannibal placed his newly constructed person suit on the bed, laying the items out to study his look.

Walking to the kitchen, he grabbed an apple and a paring knife and stood before the bed once more. Cutting off a slice of apple, he examined the outfit and then bent down to slit the knees of the dungarees, creating a jagged cut. He was satisfied with his progress thus far, but felt something was missing. If he was to commit to this look, then he would commit, for there was no sense in doing anything half-assed.

Taking his billfold and keys, he went outside and made his way to the pet shop down the street. Entering _Barks and Parks_ , Hannibal headed straight for the dog section and found a selection of collars. His eye immediately went to a black leather collar with silver spikes. _For neck sizes 45-55 cm_. He took it to the register and paid, and stopped at Rite Aid for a few more things.

Over the next few weekends, Hannibal patiently observed his new friend whom he discovered went by the charming name of “Steel.” Just another item in Steel’s unfortunate con column. Under the pro column was merely one item: Dead soon. 

Hannibal decided that it was time to melt this steel. 

**+++**

**10:15, Saturday Night**

Hannibal got out of the shower, not sure why had decided to take one; not a single person at that club would have cared either way. He began the steps of putting on his temporary new person suit. 

Earlier that week, he had purchased the tape _Closer_ by the band Joy Division, on an impulse. He ejected his cassette of Bach’s The Goldberg Variations from his Sony tape deck and inserted the newly procured music. He pressed play and stood, white towel around his waist, water still dripping down his back as he contemplated the grinding guitars and off-kilter tribal drum pattern that filled his room.

 _ **In arenas he kills for a prize,**_  
_**Wins a minute to add to his life.**_  
_**But the sickness is drowned by cries for more,**_  
_**Pray to God, make it quick, watch him fall.**_

Walking to the bathroom, he took the can of L’Oréal Studio mousse and a small container of some primordial ooze called “Dippity-Do” from the Rite Aid plastic bag, and ran each product through his hair. Turning his head upside down, he blow dried his hair until it stood on end. Adding more gel to bits and pieces, creating stiff tufts. 

He ripped the plastic seal off the Wet ‘n’ Wild black eyeliner and lined his eyes, messily smearing it across his bottom lashline. He stared at his reflection and brought a few strands of hair down over his forehead. 

_**This is the way, step inside. This is the way, step inside.** _

Dropping his towel, he walked over to his bedroom and put on his black Calvin Klein underwear and then pulled on the jeans. The grey T-shirt fit taut across his chest. He sat on the edge of his bed and buckled the dog collar around his neck. He found he enjoyed the tightness of the leather, it scraped his Adam’s apple slightly whenever he swallowed.

Stopping at the kitchen, he took the Wüsthof paring knife from a drawer and carefully put it in the back pocket of his jeans. 

_**This is the way, step inside. This is the way, step inside.** _

Boots, jacket: on -- he was ready. The final piece of his new person suit was a hoodie which mainly served as a disguise for his disguise. He took care to cover his head and on it stayed until he was blocks from his apartment. No one had seen him leave. He stopped at a _Baltimore Sun_ newsstand, plopped in a quarter, and placed the hoodie inside.

By 11:09, he was at the front door of No Exit. He paid his $5 to get in, had his hand stamped (much to his chagrin), and made his way inside walking toward the narrow hallway lit in seedy red lighting. Hannibal stopped to take in the scene before him.

The hallway opened into a larger area, the entire space was painted black: wall, ceiling, floor. One wall was covered with a chain link fence that had various brassieres intertwined within the links. Another wall had red flames crudely painted across it, and at the center of the room a long bar which featured the club’s skull and bones logo and name above it. Hannibal doubted that anyone in that entire club had even heard of Jean-Paul Sartre, much less read No Exit. The room smelled of stale beer, cigarette smoke, and hints of vomit. Hell is other people, indeed. Hannibal grew even angrier at Steel for making him have to come to that club. His death would be a sweet recompense.

“Metastasis” by Naked Raygun vibrated throughout the room as Hannibal walked in, effortlessly gliding through the bodies that currently thrashed on the dance floor. He paused in the center of the club, eyes scanning the room and it was at that moment that he found Steel sitting at the bar, guffawing with another person. Steel took a drink from his beer, then launched the can toward the center of the club.

Hannibal stood in the middle of the dance floor, as the music changed. “World Up My Ass” by the Circle Jerks reverberated through the speakers, and the crowd swaying around Hannibal began to thrash and mosh -- punching, scratching, biting, gnawing. The speakers on the wall pulsated heavily.

_**I've got the world up my ass** _  
_**And I'm gonna move fast** _  
_**Be the first, won't be the last** _  
_**I've got the world up my ass** _

Hannibal closed his eyes and let himself feel the staccato of the drums flow within him. The bodies pressing up against him, kicking, pushing, slapping -- bringing forth the bloodlust he kept tamped down day in and day out; bringing it to the forefront, and Hannibal gladly heeded the call.

_**Society is burning me up** _  
_**Take a bite, spit it out** _  
_**Take their rules** _  
_**Rip 'em up, tear them down** _  
_**Twisted mind, withered brain** _

Without warning or reason, Hannibal Lecter found himself inexplicably jumping up and down, joyfully losing himself within the crowd. Shoving, twisting, writhing. In all of his years, he had never quite felt this allowance of freedom...this permission of the primal. 

_**You know I'm going insane** _  
_**I just tell them to get back** _  
_**When they tell me how to act** _  
_**I've got the world up my ass** _

And then, he shouted at the top of his lungs -- deep and long and hard, and all that had ever been pent up in him (even after his most fantastic murders) was released. No one looked, no one cared, no one really gave a fuck. And it was splendid.

Out of breath and glistening in sweat, Hannibal thrust himself forward and headed for the bar. He ordered a beer and drank it quickly, a few feet away from Steel. Hannibal wasn’t sure how long he sat there watching, but he was patient -- so patient -- and could wait all night if need be. 

He reached around to his back pocket and felt the knife. He could picture Steel’s blood running slowly, cooling as it pooled on the ground around him. He thought of Dante: _No one thinks of how much blood it costs_. But Hannibal smiled, because he knew exactly the price Steel was about to pay.

A strobe light began to flash as “I Wanted Everything” by The Ramones blasted from the speakers. The crowd roared. Steel drunkenly made his way up from his stool and headed toward the restroom, shoving people out of his way in the process. Hannibal knew the time was now, and followed behind him.

The hallway to the bathroom was dark, as the one red lightbulb that hung from the ceiling flickered on and off. Steel made his way to the bathroom, and Hannibal silently slipped in just before the door closed, locking it behind him. Steel turned, and stiffened as he noticed Hannibal standing in front of the door, both hands at his side.

“What the fuck, man? Privacy,” he yelled out.

Hannibal stood, silent.

“Get out, you fucking asshole,” Steel snarled as he grabbed a beer bottle from the sink and smashed it against the wall. “You not understand?”

Hannibal smiled a slow, chilling smile. “No, I believe the one that does not understand is you.” He walked toward Steel.

Steel looked at Hannibal, then began to laugh, “Is this supposed to scare me, you jagoff? Get the fuck out!”

“No,” Hannibal said, approaching still, “this is supposed to give you warning.”

Steel threw the bottle at Hannibal’s head. Hannibal ducked and caught a glimpse of a foot coming up to kick him in the face. He hadn’t expected Steel to fight back, but was glad he did.

The music from the club spilled into the bathroom, a metronome for the violence within, as Hannibal raised himself from the floor. His nose was bleeding, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Steel looked at him, smiling. Hannibal lurched forward, knocking the wind out of Steel, both landing with a thud against the dirty bathroom wall. They slid to the floor once more, Hannibal on top of Steel. It was unrefined, not at all his design, and Hannibal could not have been happier.

Steel reacted quickly and drove a mighty head butt onto Hannibal’s forehead, causing Hannibal to fall backward. Steel took the opportunity jump up and kick Hannibal in the ribs repeatedly, sending waves of pain throughout his body.

Hannibal snapped forward, grabbing Steel by the ankles, pulling him down. He quickly straddled Steel and punched him in the face, again and again and again. Steel’s face soon resembled a bloodied carcass, and Hannibal stopped himself to regain composure, trembling and breathing unsteadily.

Steel looked at Hannibal through swollen eyes and weakly spat out, “Fuck you...”

Hannibal reached toward his back pocket, wiped his bloodied nose with the back of his hand. His voice was calm when he asked,“So the question that remains now is…bowels in or bowels out?”

Steel’s answer was a moot point. The splatter of Steel’s blood painting the bathroom walls was the only sound Hannibal was interested in hearing.

**+++**

Will sat with eyes wide, watching Hannibal as he grew silent, lost in memory. 

“I’m not sure if I should be terrified, extremely fucking turned on, or quite frankly both,” Will said throwing his arms up.

Hannibal shook his head gently, returning to the present. “It was inelegant, quick and visceral. In many ways it reminded me of what you and I shared with the Dragon that night.”

Will smirked and said, “Yeah, I think I’m leaning toward ‘extremely fucking turned on.’”

Hannibal smiled tenderly, which in turn tickled Will so much. Here was a man who had just described a murder most gruesome and yet had the capacity to be so gentle. Hannibal was a walking paradox, and it thrilled Will more than he could say.

“So what happened after you killed him?”

**+++**

After the mettle had definitely left Steel’s body, Hannibal debated just getting up and walking right out of No Exit and leaving him as is. Or...he looked around and noticed there was a utility closet in the bathroom. The door was unlocked. In it was a dirty rolling bucket and mop, rolls of toilet paper and not much more.

He dragged Steel over to the closet, and shoved him there, quickly closing the door before the body popped back out. A pounding on the bathroom door startled Hannibal.

“Hey, what hell man! I have to take a leak,” a gruff voice called out from the other side, a loud pounding on the door accompanying it.

“Wait your turn,” Hannibal yelled as he surveyed the room. Bits of glass and blood shined with the meager bathroom lighting. Hannibal sighed and realized he handled this rather poorly. This did not have his usual well-thought out execution. 

Still, he had anonymity on his side and was thankful that it was difficult to see that the mess on the floor was blood. It appeared to just be another random liquid in a disgusting bathroom. He quickly cleaned the blood from face, then meticulously wiped the bottom of his boots with toilet paper. He flushed the paper down the toilet before he opened the door. 

“It’s about fucking time,” the man on the other side of the door yelled out as he pushed his way in. Hannibal mumbled “Fuck off,” kept his head down low and walked out.

Hannibal made his way through the throbbing crowd. The frenetic rush he had felt earlier was gone and all he could think about was getting out of No Exit as quickly and quietly as possible. When he left the club at last, he walked at a brisk pace to get some distance. About five blocks from the club, he took off his jacket and threw it in the dumpster of a pizzeria.

On his way home, he stopped by the newsstand once again, and deposited another quarter to retrieve his hoodie. He put it on and headed back to his apartment. 

The last bits of tension left his body as he relaxed into the hot stream of the shower, making a mental note of what items he needed to get rid of, and where to burn them.

As Hannibal cleaned his paring knife with a bleach solution, he swore right then and there that all of his future work would be done with privacy in mind. His work was, above all, a solo performance with just one unfortunate audience member. 

**+++**

“I walked out of the club. No one noticed, no one cared. Steel made the news the next day, ‘Body Found in Local Club.’ His name was Ralph something or another. There were no leads, although there were plenty of motives as people were quick to tell reporters that he was not the most popular person in Baltimore.”

“And no one was the wiser,” Will said as he crawled closer to Hannibal and leaned in for a kiss. Hannibal sighed softly into Will’s mouth. Will got up and stirred the dwindling flames in the fire pit with a poker. “This is just about ready to go out. Shall we head in shortly?”

“Yes,” Hannibal said as he stretched out on the chaise.

“Well, I have to tell you love, you were right. You sounded pretty damn sexy. Too bad there isn’t any photographic evidence of what you looked like that night. Oh, to see you slam dancing with the punk masses, wearing guyliner and a dog collar.” Will was downright swoony. “I’d give my eyetooth to have been able to see that.”

Hannibal smiled at Will before his expression turned rather serious. “That was undoubtedly my most careless work. I was reckless and foolish. Quite frankly, it is a miracle I was not caught that evening. I vowed that I would never again work with potential witnesses in such close proximity.” Hannibal then got that special twinkle in his eye and said, “But you came along, ruined all my planning -- and oh yes, my life -- and now I have a permanent witness to all of my crimes.”

Will laughed with his arms crossed in front of him, “Riiight. I’m the one that did the life ruining. I did it. It was _all_ me. Me, you smug bastard.”

Hannibal laughed and rose from the chaise, offering Will his hand. “Why don’t we head inside, _mylimasis_? I’ll come back out shortly to tend to the ashes.” Will threw himself into Hannibal’s arms, and Hannibal in turn hugged him tightly as he sighed. 

“You may be a smug bastard, Hannibal, but you’re my smug bastard,” Will said breathlessly. Hannibal inhaled Will’s familiar scent, squeezing him tighter before releasing him. Both immediately intertwined their hands as they walked into the house.

“Will?”

“Hmmm?”

“The dog collar? Well, I may be amenable to have you seeing me in one...so let’s not rule that out,” Hannibal said with a smirk.

Will’s eyes grew wide as he nodded, then quickly led Hannibal upstairs.

**Author's Note:**

> Music featured in the fic, as well as other music I listened to while writing it:
> 
> [Atrocity Exhibition](https://youtu.be/5AqeqAQ1ILI) by Joy Division  
> [Know Your Rights](https://youtu.be/5lfInFVPkQs) by The Clash  
> [Hope](https://youtu.be/wHd-PLgKlbs) by Descendants  
> [Coup D'etat](https://youtu.be/3THKuzgyg2g) by Circle Jerks  
> [S.O. 36](https://youtu.be/arNGFkqVq9c) by Killing Joke  
> [Rise Above](https://youtu.be/xHR-rzUjCzU) by Black Flag  
> [I Wanted Everything](https://youtu.be/aHlsrbAdKlk) by The Ramones  
> [We're So Happy](https://youtu.be/a3Y7asgIXCE) by The Danse Society  
> [I've Had It](https://youtu.be/Lx5A6MRiK2I) by Black Flag  
> [Metastasis](https://youtu.be/ZOP_SA9xBmE) by Naked Raygun  
> [Digital](https://youtu.be/9qgFGqJz9yc) by Joy Division  
> [Ever Fallen in Love](https://youtu.be/terg_LPT3X0) by Buzzcocks  
> [Anarchy in the UK](https://youtu.be/0TZ_9-rbslo) by The Sex Pistols
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks to [Devereauxs_Disease](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Devereauxs_Disease/pseuds/chronicopheliac) and [Chronicopheliac](http://archiveofourown.org/users/chronicopheliac/pseuds/chronicopheliac) for their comments and support with this.


End file.
